As customary when returning from an international trip, I brought a special treat to share with my coworkers. The salted caramel sugar biscuits came in a rectangular, bright blue flowered tin, the perfect size for storing pencils or chopsticks. I emailed all staff: “Cookies from Oxford! Enjoy!” One by one, the cookies disappeared. In the late afternoon, I stopped by the office kitchen for a consumption check. Not only were the cookies gone, but so was the tin. I really wanted that tin. I found myself with a dilemma. Do I email staff to ask for it back, or do I suck it up and accept the blame for not making it clear that I meant to keep the tin for myself?
It was a Tuesday, a day many of us come to the office to work together, in person. On other days, those with more flexible schedules and the ability to accomplish tasks remotely, we work from home.
Three years ago, before Covid hit, there’s no way I could have negotiated this hybrid situation in which I now find myself. “Will you be in tomorrow?” was never a question. I never knew I’d frequently use the word hybrid.
That Tuesday, while making an espresso in the office kitchen, I confessed to one of my colleagues, “I think someone stole my cookie tin.” Without hesitation, he said, “I saw that tin. It was sparkly. Get it back.” “But what if I seem petty? I mean, I didn’t specify.” He said, “If those cookies had been in a Tupperware or on a plate, no one would have taken it.” When two other colleagues joined us, we filled them in on the drama. “This is exciting, an office mystery!” one of them exclaimed, checking the trash and recycling. No tin.
As much I enjoy the flexibility, Covid really screwed us. Recently I listened to a podcast about the negative effect of the hybrid workplace. The story focused on people earlier in their careers, the ones who most need to network but don’t know that networking is predominantly an in-person activity. The best mentoring opportunities and career discussions stem from spontaneous interactions. And fruitful, spontaneous interactions don’t happen over Zoom.
With the encouragement of my kitchen colleagues, I decided to write to all staff. “It is with a heavy and somewhat self-conscious heart I ask for my cookie tin back. Please return it to my desk. No questions asked.”
Word got around. “There’s lots of people here today,” said the office manager. “Does anyone look guilty?” A young colleague stopped by to give my dog a treat. Laughing, she said, “Maybe Ginger took it.” She’s having her first baby soon, and we talked for a while about managing a full-time job while being a new mother.
My coworkers have made numerous attempts over the past few years to entice people to come into the office. Free parking and office supplies, flavored sparkling water, dog treats, Nespresso pods, nice bathrooms with that special poop spray. We just got a massage chair. Still, many of us continue to choose home over the workplace.
Our office has cameras, in the event of a burglary. Our company president put up $10 to the charity of the thief’s choice. Someone else matched it. Nothing yet.